Betel Chew (Paan)

When we first witnessed people with red stains on their teeth, for sure we thought it was blood and felt compassion for so many people suffering from some sort of gingivitis. Little did we know about the paan.

Paan is a wrap and it’s such a vital part of Bangladesh culture! Many people joke that betel nut is Bengali “chewing gum.” Street vendors make it and sell it from little sidewalk stands everywhere throughout Bangladesh as the ideal way to end a meal or tea break.

A green leaf is filled with betel (areca) nut, lime, fennel seeds, cardamom, clove, or other spices; then it is popped into the mouth. The areca nut contains the alkaloid arecoline, which promotes salivation (the saliva is stained red), and is itself a stimulant. When they spit, it looks like they are spitting blood, and sidewalks have red stained spots from it.  As they chew, people enjoy the peppery taste, the warm feeling in their body, the alertness it gives. and very much a social habit amongst the great, bad or good!

Unfortunately, betel nut is not merely a mild stimulant or a non-offensive after-dinner treat. It’s a dangerous carcinogenic snack. Chewing betel nut causes cancer of mouth, esophagus, stomach, prostate, cervix, and lungs. Mouths develop ulcers, and gums deteriorate.

Last night, after enjoying a nice dinner with a couple of our Bangladeshi friends, the urge for paan was felt. I accompanied the driver who went looking for the precious treat out of pure curiosity. Needless to say that, after having witnessed how it is prepared and trying it for a little bit, I think I will stick with my after-dinner sambuca for now!

The auto-rickshaws - CNG

It has been two months since we arrived in Dhaka and the novelty of the CNG-powered auto-rickshaw still hasn’t worn off.

CNG, also called baby taxi, are the notorious green auto rickshaws that zoom dangerously around the city like aggravated motorized wasps. You clamber into the back and the driver essentially locks you us in, in what it is basically a cage on wheels. All CNGs were fitted with these cage doors due to crime and bag snatchings. The problem now is that the bad guys approach the cage, lock the door and threaten to throw gas on you and set you on fire. 

Countless beggars take advantage of the regular traffic standstills and approach the CNGs vehicles and are reaching with their fingers in the rickshaw’s cage to grab attention. Some of riders slot taka notes out, which are greedily snatched by the beggars.

Poluttion used much worse in Dhaka (yes, I know, I find that one hard to believe), so the government of Bangladesh took action in the mid-1990s to clear the air. Leaded gasoline, which can pollute groundwater, was banned in 1999. Strict regulations were placed on the sulfur content in diesel fuel. An import ban was placed on two-stroke three-wheelers to help phase out older-model auto-rickshaws, and a widespread CNG program was launched. Compressed natural gas, CNG is known to be a fuel with lower air pollutant emissions and also the country has abundant natural gas reserves. Two-stroke engines were banned completely in 2003. When this happened, there was a 30 to 40 percent drop in pollution in Dhaka.

We have been forbidden to ride into one, because they are deemed unsafe, but they seem to genuinely fun. My local colleagues use them all the time and some of them describe them as dusty, uncomfortable and bumpy, but others appreciate them as expedient, more comfortable and spacious than the bus. And there is also the danger of being mugged as well.
For some, being locked inside the caged compartment reminds them of an amusement park ride. The CNG can also zip thru traffic because they are around two-thirds the width of a car, so they can beat the cars in the traffic jams. Sometime, the ride is taken to another level, some sort of a stunt driving, that Hollywood would probably have something to lear from. It is not unusual to see CNGs driven along the footpath by a driver who doesn't want to wait for a jam to clear up.

The funniest urban legend I heard about a CNG ride was about a couple riding in one without side doors. Suddenly a naked man leaped into their CNG and asked for money. The husband, wishing to see the naked creature promptly disappear, quickly scooped up one 100 taka note. “How can I dress myself with one hundred taka?”. One can easily guess that he got another note right away.

Brother romance (Bro-mance)

One thing that still strikes us in Bangladesh: Men hold hands here all the time. The meaning is completely different then the one we are used to in America. In fact, many Bangladeshis I have talked to don’t believe in homosexuality at all. According to them, it just does not exist. Yet, it’s not uncommon to see a man touching the small of another man’s back here, or resting their hand deep on their friend’s thigh.

My first time I have held hands with a man in Bangladesh, he wanted to have a picture taken with me. We posed for the photo when he grabbed my hand. Instinctively, I flinched and pulled my hand away. But then I turned to him and saw the horror on his face, realizing my mistake. I put my hand back down, let him take it, and then smiled for the camera. When in Rome…

And at least, this culture of physical contact between men has provided me with a new hobby; taking pictures of guys in front of me holding hands.

Why's Everybody Always Honking On Me?

You can always tell the intensity of a Dhaka traffic jam by the decibel level the honking horns have reached. If you can still hear the person next to you speak inside an air conditioned vehicle above the sounds of horns honking outside of your car, then you are just in normal Dhaka traffic.

Back home, in our "let me make sure I do not offend you" American culture, honking your horn at someone is like inviting someone to a school backyard fight. People get offended. “What’s that guy’s problem? He HONKED at me!”

Here in Dhaka, honking is just a way of life. Walking down the street, you must expect to lose some of your hearing. Cars here honk more often than they do not. When they come to an intersection, they honk. When a person is walking alongside a road, they honk at the person. When they are changing lanes (realistically there are no lanes here), they honk. When they are turning, they honk. When they just are on the road, they honk. In traffic, they just hold down their horns as if through their abuse of the horn they can express the incredible frustration they feel at the hopeless situation of the eternal traffic jam in Dhaka. A true jam will incite even the most patient driver to start honking. The horns are most annoying to pedestrians, ricksha wallah, and CNG drivers/passengers.

I seriously contemplated ordering a blow horn from the US. I would get the most powerful one, the kind that blows out your ear membranes at sporting events. Then I would just honk back at any bus, car or CNG that honks at me.

When a Dhaka traffic jam hits, it strikes with the force of an atomic bomb going off, and all ears are affected by the sound. Pedestrians beware, If you are a pedestrian near this jam, you are at serious risk of permanent hearing loss. Same goes for those in the CNGs or rickshaws. Even in the confines of an air conditioned vehicle, it becomes difficult to hear one’s own voice, or the voices of others in the car above the symphony of horns being honked.

Hapi Holi

Acording to Wikipedia, Holi is a religious spring festival celebrated by Hindus as a festival of colours. It is primarily observed in India and Nepal, but also by the minority Hindus in Bangladesh and Pakistan as well in countries with large Indic diaspora populations following Hinduism, such as Suriname, Malaysia, Guyana, South Africa, Trinidad and Tobago, the United Kingdom, the United States, Mauritius, and Fiji.


The festival has many purposes, but first and foremost, it celebrates the beginning of the new season, spring. Hindus believe it is a time of enjoying spring's abundant colors and saying farewell to winter. It also has a religious purpose, commemorating the victory of good over evil, brought about by the burning and destruction of the demoness named Holika. Although it is the least religious holiday, it is probably one of the most exhilarating ones in existence.

Holi got its name as the "Festival of Colors" from Lord Krishna, a reincarnation of Lord Vishnu, who liked to play pranks on the village girls by drenching them in water and colors. During this event, participants hold a bonfire, throw colored powder at each other, and celebrate wildly.

What fascinates me about India, without ever setting foot in the country yet is the strictness of social norms, which includes gaps between age, gender, status, and caste. Holi however removes them and the rich and poor, women and men, enjoy each other’s presence on this day.

We had an invitation to celebrate Holi at the Indian Embassy today and celebrate we did. Atmosphere was filled with excitement, fun and joy. We ended up saturated in water, with color all over our skin and clothes.

What is that alien creature?

The first thing that strikes you in Bangladesh is just how much people gather around and stare at you. Six, eight, or maybe even fifteen people, men,boys, and women alike, circle around you like hummingbirds on a nectar nest, at a  distance between two and four feet. They stare at your face without blinking, without saying a word. No shame. Not for fifteen or twenty seconds, but for several minutes, if you stay in one place that long. They seemingly do not move their eyes. They just look at you!

Who/what is this alien creature, they seem to be saying. Taller than anyone I know, and with a light skin color that I rarely see. They seem, in their own way, to be trying to make sense of all that I visually represent. And so they stare, some of them maybe breaking into a faint smile. 

We are, for a lot of these people, as close as they will ever come to having traveled to a foreign land. For many we are their first geography of those white people far away that they will, perhaps, have heard about from a friend or a parent, or seen on TV. If they have a TV, have been able to put their eyes on one for more than brief moments when not hustling and moving about to make enough to buy the day’s rice.

The formula for a successful hartal

In order for a hartal to succeed a very precise recipe has to be followed. The ultimate goal is for the majority of citizens to boycot work, travel and other normal activities.
The decisions to call a hartal are made at meetings of the AL’s Presidium Committee or the BNP’s Steering Committee. After a hartal has been declared, the parties initiate pre-hartal activities for three or four days before. The student wings of the parties (the BNP’s Chatra Dal and the AL’s Chatra League) are usually the ones in charge of making this happen. Rallies are organized around university campuses and members of the armed cadres are present with the purpose of instilling an element of fear by letting off “cocktail” explosives. Also, on top of the student wings, different city wards carry out similar activities, staging rallies and setting off small explosions.


On the hartal day, students stage rallies starting on the campuses. The first task is marching close to police barricades and try to antagonize police personnel. Then, bombs are thrown towards the barricades causing the police to respond in force. And then the "fun" begins. Party activists have similar tasks all over the city, focusing on specific areas and streets. Violence include letting off bomb explosions, burning tires and ransacking rickshaws, CNGs, and cars. Buses are set on fire.

A large mass of people is also key to a successful hartal, therefore people are hired to participate. The hired hands generally come mainly from the slums via the mastaans, the middlemen. This practice is being used both by the AL and BNP.

B-B-B-Baby, you just ain't seen n-n-n-nothin' yet

If you have not experienced the Dhaka traffic and unless you’ve been in one of those demolition derbies, you can’t appreciate what a traffic jam really means.

According to the CNN Travel site, the city can "proud" itself on having the world worst travel. In Dhaka, congestion gets to bad "rush hour" is what they call the least busy times, when rushing is somewhat possible.

A 2011 government report stated that traffic stands still for more than seven hours a day.

Traffic lights, if they exist, are nothing else then decorations as hundreds of thousands of rickshaws, buses, carts, bicycles, farm animals, pedestrians, cars and motorbikes fight each other for space. Crossings, roundabouts or one-way roads are there to be used in the wrong direction, traffic lights and policemen are abundant, but rather broken or ignored. Everyone moves at his own idea or takes the shortest short-cut, no matter what’s in the way. There are about 30 deaths on the roads each day in Dhaka and the only way we try to cope with this is to lean back, watch the chaos and pray to God that we will not be the one of the people who end up in these statistics.

As for getting around, it’s almost certainly quicker to walk, hop or crawl.

I think these pics sum it well up!

                                

Top things we are missing

Last night it rained really hard and it gave me a chance to think about what I am missing the most while we are in Bangladesh. Here is a feeble attempt to capture it:

1. Clean air. It does not matter I quit smoking a long time ago, my lungs feel just as bad as they did when I was.

2. Clean and blue skies. I have not had one day here without the sky being gray and hazy.

3. Clean water. We even have to brush our teeth with distilled water. Forget about just washing a fruit with tap water and just eating it.

4. Watching Netflix without masking my IP address

5. Starbucks coffee!!!!

6. American style supermarkets.

7. Quiet moments. It is impossible to get away from the city and its noise. And even getting outside Dhaka does not seem to help a whole lot. 

8. Not being able to get what you want when you want it. And when I order online to get it in days vs weeks.


There would be more, but I do not want to come across as whinnying.

Dog hair everywhere

We have not been able to find a reliable dog groomer in Dhaka. That is not to say it does not exist.

Most of the expat pet owners we know prefer to do the grooming themselves. The results vary widely to say the least. In the couple of months we have been here, I have noticed some the most hilarious dog haircuts. So, armed with a machine we ordered online from Walmart, Cristina and I got to work on grooming Oreo this morning. We are fortunate that his size is small, so we did not have to sedate him like our friend Amber had to do with her dog. It took her three hours, two more people to help and a sedative slipped in the dog's food.

Our result? We are not really proud of it, but then again we do not plan on turning it into a full time career.

Maslenitsa celebration

Today we were invited by our Ukrainian friends, Svitlana, Andrei and Masha to celebrate Maslenitsa.


Maslenitsa, also known as Butter Week or Pancake week, is a slavic version of Fat Tuesday in the US. You basically have to stuff yourself up before you begin to fast during the Great Lent. In Slavic mythology, Maslenitsa is also a celebration of the winter end and the arrival of spring.

Everything was so delicious, the crepes in particular!

I struggled a little bit with Andrei's push for me to shoot vodkas at 11 o'clock in the morning, but did all right in the end.

Learning the word hartal (general strike)

The first word a Bideshi (foreigner) must learn when he arrives in Bangladesh has to be “hartal”. What is a Hartal?

According to the Wikipedia definition, Hartal is a term in many South Asian languages for strike action, first used during the Indian Independence Movement. It is mass protest often involving a total shutdown of workplaces, offices, shops, courts of law as a form of civil disobedience. In addition to being a general strike, it involves the voluntary closing of schools and places of business. It is a mode of appealing to the sympathies of a government to change an unpopular or unacceptable decision. The term comes from Gujarati, signifying the “closing down of shops” or “locking the doors” with the object of realizing a demand.

The hartal has very honorable roots, in Ghandi’s civil disobedience against colonialism. The thing is colonialism ended a long time ago, and the current leaders in Bangladesh are trapped in the past. They are fighting present wars with the arms of yesterday.

Bangladesh seems to have elevated the hartal to a new level and today here is usually associated with the stoppage of vehicular traffic and closure of markets, shops and offices for a specific period of time to articulate agitation.

There are many proponents of hartals who claim exercising rights such as freedom of assembly and freedom of expression is perfectly acceptable. But the present day hartals are associated with intimidation, coercion and infringement on other people’s freedom of movement. They inflict severe costs on the nation. So, I am having a hard time trying to justify hartals on the principles of freedom.

The issue in Bangladesh is that legislation is meant to be discussed, debated and decided in the nation’s Parliament. Time after time, however, opposition members find themselves excluded from dialogue. As a result, Parliament does not function as the forum for dialogue and the fight shifts to other arena, it moves into the streets.
What the political parties fail to understand is that this country needs some fresh blood and fresh thinking. No outside investor will come here knowing that the country is closed for democratic dialogue, because that means it cannot possibly be open for business.

And no, I am not taking credit for the pictures.

 

Dhaka fit or Training with the Marines

Every Sunday and Wednesday, the Marines of Detachment Dhaka invite everybody in the mission to the Dhaka Fit!,a training program at the US Embassy Annex Field. Since it is an excellent way to support, motivate, and spend time with our favorite Marines and at the same time get in a good work out, the whole family joined, including Oreo.

No, we do not look like this, even though some of our Marines come pretty close

We look a little bit more like this:

And, yes, we did almost get killed by one of our favorite Marines the first time we joined the program. He pushed so hard and tried to motivate me with quotes like: "Pain is just weakness leaving the body!" :)


And here is Oreo, after the training program is over and we are home: